


Evening Sun

by meiqis



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Slow Burn, except one chapter ain't slow, kind of enemy-to-lovers except Yanjun is just an old grump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 09:33:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15992474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiqis/pseuds/meiqis
Summary: To get inspiration, Yanjun loves nothing more than watching the sunset and it all goes well until a noisy pet owner with his two dogs starts interrupting his peace and his thoughts and maybe Zhengting isn't just playing fetch with his dogs but also Yanjun's heart





	Evening Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this cc](https://curiouscat.me/dadting/post/636212130) and slightly altered by me and some draining days influencing my mood
> 
> I may point out that google translate gave me that translation for Fuli's name and I thought it was funny and the one time I used bitch it's for its original meaning of a female dog, yes and thank you

Surely, there was something mysterious about the sun going down, coloring the sky as if to send goodbye kisses to each cloud, every relationship between those and that bright light different, unique, always a new color, always a new flair, it wasn’t like each sundown was like another, they all were peerless in their own ways, shifts and shades, and each and every night it was luring him out of his house to walk the few meters to the shore, settle down on one of the bigger rocks that marked the gradient border between the beach and his plot, green grass interrupted by the stone floor creating a pathway around his gardens, taking turns and dips around small arrangements of flowers set in circles of a few inches high bushes, carefully trimmed, and then the artificially set stones turned into the bigger boulders protruding from the earthen grounds, turning smaller, a drastic change to sand that he loved to dip his toes into in the mornings, to walk towards the edge of the water and feel the icy waves that hadn’t been warmed up by the sun just yet, when there were no people yet around, when he had the beach right outside his house to himself, to enjoy the serenity, the morning breeze, sipping his steaming coffee to warm up his bones and wake up.

Now it was just as serene, no more people around except the adventurous teenagers on the far end of the beach, closer to the bars and nightlife, way apart from the calm living area that was their side of the beach, where hardly any noise reached them anymore, and the ones that might have, they were drowned out by the waves hitting the beach, the creamy sand now turning into masses of gold with the bottom of the fiery ball kissing the sea in a sense of a greeting, a child that was tucked in by its blanket slowly, ready for the night to engulf its world, and every evening he watched it, sometimes closer, when it was warm enough to stray around, still with the never changing cup of coffee, settled on the rocks that generously framed the small stairs leading up to his garden, and on the colder day, when winter slowly approached, when the winds took up and bit the skin, he’d settle closer to his home, in the Hollywood swing on his veranda, cuddled into blankets, watching how the sun went down, bidding farewell to the daily farewell to return to the city for the iciest months, when being out at the seaside was dull and grey, bore no more inspiration, then it was time to go back to his home country and visit his parents.

He was lucky, that much he knew, having a kind of job that allowed him to live as leisurely, to travel between two countries all so easily, without his work ever getting deterred, even the opposite, inspiration drawn from these moments, unfiltered and raw moments of natural happenings, watching storms from his windows inside, how the electric whites hit the surface of water, how walls of water slowly built along the liquid masses, moved forward, watching the sun rise and fall, even when there were no mentions of nature in his works, be it his little poems, published under an alias in a magazine, be it his novels, his books, he found it easier to write while observing the world that was entirely without humans, observing and drawing relations, between storms that came by a sudden and drizzles that approached slowly, between mornings that were filled by waves foaming in anger when hitting the sand as if to gobble it up and waves that were as gentle as a lover’s caress, each and all of them so easily influenced his works, his characters, his story, and yet, whenever those annoying interviewers asked him where he got his inspiration from, he had no answer to this, because in no way could he ever compare the greatness of nature to his nimble works.

It was this kind of thought that crossed his mind again, just how admirable nature was, the weather, the ocean, even the small roses hiding at the backside of his house where they were sheltered from the sea breeze and growing wildly, like an unbeaten empress, strong when she had to be and lenient when her folk demanded, cruel towards those in her way and gentle to those who had her back, with robes fluttering in hues of gold and orange and red, eyes of a deep lavender that resembled the evening sky, it was a picture painted into his mind and waiting to be put into words, of a woman with pale skin and warm eyes, fingers that were cold to the touch and-

The excited barking of dogs interrupted his thoughts, made the picture in his mind break apart like a mirror hit by a hammer, cracking, shards slipping, falling, and then it would all come crumbling down and he was close to losing his mind, wanting to grasp at what he had lost just this very moment but all he could take hold of was his coffee mug and take a sip, to swallow down his anger and frustration about this moment, to turn his eyes towards the disturbance that had taken shape in a man with his two dogs, throwing a ball into a water only to have the black one excitedly follow behind and into the shallow waves while the other, the white one, seemed to be smarter, waiting at the edge of the water where it would just at times caress its little paws, and then the white one snatched the toy right ahead to the black one and delivered it back to the owner upon call.

It was unusual for people, or, one person, to be around such time, he would understand so if it was the middle of the summer, when it was still warm, when some few brave hearts had taken it upon themselves to take an evening dip, although that was much more likely to happen near the other end of the beach, but less so when the weather was turning colder, when autumn was coming up and already ringing the doorbell, there were hardly any tourists around at such time anymore so he could only assume that guy hadn’t come here for the chance to take a swim, and the inhabitants of their small town weren’t likely to stop by the beach in the evening, it was why he liked this place so much, ever since he had experienced its nice little attributes years ago, during a trip of his own, had decided to buy the little house that had coincidentally been upped for sale the next year he came by, he had called it a choice of fate, that he was able to experience nature in quietness and solitude every morning and every evening, and now this man had so naively, unknowingly, cruelly disrupted his peaceful ritual.

Silently and all to himself, he wished that the next night he wouldn’t be interrupted again, that the dog owner would go far away, to the other end of the strip of sand, that he hadn’t moved into a house nearby and was merely a visitor, because one man and two dogs were enough to ruin his evening and he didn’t want to experience it any more.

  


  


The little wish he had harbored since that evening, that had turned into hope in the morning as he was passing cold stone tiles, walking down stairs, curling his toes into moist sand, when the breeze was picking on his pajama sweats and the shirt he had lazily thrown on while nipping his coffee and watching the sea, that grew like a little seedling watered by time throughout the day - it came shattering down every evening, settled on his usual stone, watching the sun slowly starting to make its way downwards, pictures meaning to be transformed into words coming to his mind, a routine he knew too well, he just needed to dwell on it for a while, on such unedited beauty, such unbeaten charm, strong yet soft colors, for images to be painted in his mind to fuel his inspiration, such ritual was awfully disrupted by small barks and the splashes of water and the calls of the dog names.

The first evening he had been frustrated, the second he had been angered, the third he had just turned on his heels when seeing the three different shapes approach the water, and now, nearly one week later, he could only sigh in resignation as he turned on his seat to instead watch the owner with his dogs, the black and the white, not entirely sure about the race because he had never spent much time thinking about dogs, the only kind he knew was the one that had butts looking like a loaf of toast bread from behind, so he, rather than finding out what kind of dogs they were, was rather faced with getting to know their names, odd and weird, because, for sure, no one in their right mind would name their dogs welfare and five million, meaning that not only he had been interrupted but also by an idiot of some sorts on top.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb and settling with one thing, that no way he would be able to continue writing on his new story for as long as this man was around and yet, considering how regularly he was coming by, how he was always staying on this side of the beach where the residents lived, where not many tourists showed up unless it was the right season, he had to face the reality of his little sanctuary having been shattered and broken by no less than some idiot choosing dumb names for his dogs instead for the stereotypical ones.  
Both feet set on the grass a few inches above the bolder and ready to pick up his mug, he was interrupted by a yell, followed by a splash, and even though he didn’t want to, when all the voices inside his head told him to just go on ahead, to ignore the man behind him who had apparently just fallen into the water, he found himself unable to, only went ahead to put down his cup on the windowsill, a walk of a few meters if crossing the lane, and then he turned around again, traced back on his own steps, down the stairs, to approach the figure who had merely just managed to get out of the water, dripping wet with the entirety of originally loosely fitted clothes now sticking to a slender frame, drenched, carefully arranged hair a dripping mess hanging down and now that he was close enough, Yanjun had to face the cruelty that was the handsomeness of Mr Dumb Names.

Before he could even get close enough as to reach out to the man who was sitting on the wet sand, he was stopped by one of the dogs, sat down in front of him and nearly making him drip, rubbing its butt through the sand as he moved into his way the moment he tried to move sideways, until the black one ran into the white one sitting and had it topple over, a little fight breaking out between the two that rolled through the sand while he, now, could make his undeterred way over to the man sitting there, looking down at the stranger. “Are you hurt?”

Eyes that previously had only been focused on the dogs, maybe on his feet, were now turned upwards while one hand pushed through wet hair, brushed it back, revealing more of features that were handsome even in the dim light of the setting sun, and then those were same strands were coming loose again as the handsome idiot shook his head. “No, I don’t think so,” he answered, or maybe he thought so, because once he tried to stand up, that guy fell over right again, this time, at least, onto dry ground, enough of a move to call for both his dogs to tackle him down, looking happy to be close to their owner now that he had tripped.

Right this moment, no matter how handsome that stranger was, he decided he was really unlucky, should just have gone back inside and not bothered to be nice, but now he couldn’t back down anymore, could only hold out his hand for the stranger to hold, hurling up the pet owner with surprising ease, that guy did look thin but he also was quite light, more so than he probably should be but the writer didn’t point that much out, merely let the stranger test his walking ability that was quite doubt-worthy, considering only one wobbly step later Yanjun had to support him all over again.

“Where is your home?” He asked the injured, tried to ignore the dogs jumping up their legs, standing with their paws pushed against their calves, wanting to receive attention or maybe just to get closer, maybe also desiring to have their ball thrown but that one seemed to have gotten lost, and it took some seconds of orientation for the stranger to vaguely put into the direction of a small apartment building a little walk away, way further than the walk to his house, and as much as he dreaded having a surprise visitor, he was way less up to escorting this guy all the way to that foreign house.

“Mine’s there,” he decided, already starting to lead the limping guy on, the several feet towards the small steps up, carrying that man more than that he was supporting him, until he was up, the dogs excitedly following after them, seemingly delighted about being away from the sand and back to the greens all over again, running through the grass and exploring things, taking their time leisurely while he helped their owner walk the paved way and towards his veranda, where he stopped for a moment, eyeing the wet clothes and considering the mess it would cause inside, comparing it the cruelty of leaving that man out in the open while being completely drenched, even if it was just for the short time of getting him a change of clothes.

“You don’t need to take me inside,” the man finally started, voice soft now that he had recovered from the earlier shock, as it seemed, and eyes big and sweet like a deer’s, it was alluring, to say the least, “Fuli and Wubaiwan, they need someone to watch over them either way and I’d also be reluctant about letting someone into my home so I can-”

“I’ll get you clothes,” Yanjun simply interrupted, pulling open the door with one hand while he signed the stranger to wait in place with the other, only brushing his own feet against the doormat before he went inside, hurrying to get a shirt and a blanket, a towel, to gift the other once he was outside again, settling them all on the Hollywood swing placed a few feet down and away from the door. “As long as no one’s on the beach, you won’t have any spectators. You want some tea?”

Nearly shyly, the man nodded his head, before making his way over to the swing as he supported himself on the windowsill, towards the swing and Yanjun, who, at least, had enough manners to hold out his hand to help that nuisance of a pet owner to get closer, to stop next to the swing, and even more so he had the courtesy to avoid his eyes when seeing how, standing on one leg, the injured reached to pull his shirt out of his pants.

From then on it was a quick decision, going back inside to get some tea, or, in his case, another mug of coffee, along with some water for the dogs because, surely, they wouldn’t want to drink the salty masses of the ocean, and what was supposed to only take minutes felt like eternity as he considered his decisions, most of his friends were quite aware that behind his scowl and glare he was soft, but to a stranger, especially a hurt one, having to wait outside, he might seem like quite the rogue, no matter how kindly he behaved in his actions, offering help, providing clothes, setting down the tray with drinks on the table outside, he surely hadn’t left a nice kind of first impression, he never had been known for that, actually.

But as he heard the dogs barking as they scrambled around the bowl of water, he decided, it was quite well deserved, these dogs, no matter how adorable they were with their little sturdy build and big eyes and hanging tongues, they were a nuisance interrupting his creative thoughts each and every moment, along with their owner, so he simply forced himself to ignore that the man looked quite vulnerable, hurled into the blanket, dressed in his shirt that seemed to big on such slender frame, and nipping on his tea while always testingly rolling the injured foot.

Definitely a nuisance, entirely.

  


  


Or at least so he tried to think one week later still, somehow the interruptions of merely a ball being thrown and dogs being excited had somehow turned into the still limping beauty to stop by the boulders here and there, on the first day, he had offered a small gift as thank you for the help, on the second day, he had offered dinner, the next day he had asked about whether Yanjun was out each and every night, and slowly the writer wasn’t so sure whether that stranger - named Zhengting, as he had found out - was planning to drive him crazy or to get him infatuated, because, surely, such beauty would affect about anyone but he was still firm on staying resilient.

Even on this evening as he had decided to not sit on the boulders this time around, there really was no way to escape the stranger and his dogs, or, to be more elaborate, the dogs, with the black one currently sitting in front of him in a way that had him wonder how she didn’t fall over sideways, with big eyes looking up at him and dressed in a dress but that was anything but incredulous, yet it was also the reason he thought the black puppy was a she, unless her owner was into crossdressing dogs now just to confuse strangers, admittedly, he could imagine that to happen.

Carefully he shoved the dog away, signed her to go back where she had come from, tried to persuade her conscience, all that and more, nothing helped against the innocent eyes that were looking up to him as if she was waiting for something, and that thing, whatever he was, was nothing Yanjun was able to figure because how was he even supposed to converse with a dog- wait, no, even just conversing with a dog was already crazy enough, a waste of time, he didn’t want to turn out like one of those crazy cat ladies and talk to a puppy that wasn’t even his when he was supposed to allow inspiration to overcome him simply so he could finish the novel he was supposed to hand over to his editor within a few weeks time, before he was supposed to head back home, spend Christmas, New Year, the Chinese New Year, and some other holidays with his parents, he was supposed to focus on that, not to get the stubborn pet off his veranda and back to his owner.

“Wubaiwan!” Someone finally called, made the little faunal lady turn her head in the direction of her owner just to ignore him right after, ignored the shouts, the calls, the luring of a treat, all for the sake of just staring up at him in her relentlessness of wanting to persuade him to whatever it was she demanded, it wasn’t like he could read thoughts in first place, much less those of a dog.

But the longer the calls went on with the dog unmoving, merely scratching her ear with her hinds once, the stronger the resignation within him about having to give up on the situation, giving the definitely not so innocent puppy a glare as he signed at Zhengting to just come over, kicking one foot out from under his garden table to sign the still injured to take a seat there while he went inside to get them something to drink, opting for something stronger in different ways than coffee this time around, greeted by the sight of the man having settled in the chair and the dogs having doubled, now rolling around the grass while the owner watched.

It seemed to take some moments for Zhengting to realize there was company around, namely when Yanjun settled down the bottle of wine and the two glasses, soft thumps of glass against wood, the gentle brawl of the red being poured into new confinements, but with slender fingers gripping one glass those plush lips seemed to also come back to work, “I’m sorry about being a bother again. First because of my foot and then because of her too…”

“You are right,” he admitted carelessly, seeing teeth digging into rosy lips, surely the stranger felt guilty about intruding like this, yet he took his time on explaining his thoughts further as he leaned back in the chair, grabbed his own glass to swirl the red inside around, “You are a bother but not only because of your foot and your dog having grown attached to my ground. But it happened so now you should just enjoy your wine and try to not to let it happen again.”

There was silence for some moments, between them, it couldn’t be entirely tranquil with the white noise of waves meeting the beach, with the screech of some birds in the distance, the barking and grumbling of the dogs at the ground, but eventually it was interrupted again when the pretty guest stated, rather than asked, “You don’t like me.”

“You’re loud. You always show up around sunset when no one else usually is around. You interrupt my thinking time and make it difficult for me to get inspiration. Scratch that - it’s impossible.” The writer frowned lightly as he looked at the last remaining lights only to then turn his face to his guest again, slightly tilting his head aside to check the reaction to his easily crude words. “I’m not fond of people interrupting me while watching the sunset.”

As if those words resembled a bunch of shards spread across the floor, ready to cut into skin and lodge themselves between baby toes, Yanjun could pretty much see the consideration on the other’s face, whether to pick up on his rough tone and attitude, he saw the conflict on that elegant face concerning harsh words and the shared drink, the invitation despite the interruption, it was like the man was an open book with every page approaching a new emotion, he was quite sure he could even see the backtrace to the evening a week ago of getting injured and helped out only to be then continuously turned down and shown the cold shoulder.

It might have been only seconds or even minutes to have passed but, eventually, those plush and probably painted lips parted to pick up on the conversation again, a safe topic, something that wouldn’t lead to further downgrading behavior, “You use the sunset for inspiration? Are you a painter?” The only response was a shake of black hair so the pet owner went on, “Are you drawing things? Involved with art? Writing?”

Although it had taken some attempts, Zhengting had guessed correctly, asking about his works, what fields they were, with a topic that did and yet not involve the bothersome intruding on his private moments that weren’t quite so private, Yanjun found himself startled by the curiosity within those big eyes, the amount of questions about this and that, interrupted by some messages sent and received, apparently from a friend who loved to read, only to show off a bit, and if it was anything to go by, when they were half-way through the bottle of wine, he found himself with the black dog on his lap and a heated discussion about book characters in comparison to movie actors.

  


  


Compared to the matutinal sunrise with chilled and clammy sand beneath his feet, with toes curling around the wet grains kissed by the waves, compared to the natural serenity of the sunset, once the two puppies and their owner had stopped interrupting them, compared to the tranquility of his little house near the beach, he found the rain falling steadily but slow, turning the city grey and lifeless, a picture that was painted pretty by words but actually quite sad to look at, awfully boring, dull, and draining.

The colors of red and blue and yellow, coming from windows and billboards, that managed to break the veil of water and illuminated the city where the sun couldn’t reach on such a day, they were turned into a melancholic but romantic setting on his laptop screen but whereas his readers might later think that it’s quite the beautiful sight, with small drops hitting the windows, breaking apart, drawing bonnie patterns on the ground as they greet the puddles around the roadside, rippling the surfaces of such tiny pools, decorated by the laughter of children and their excited steps, running outside with their raincoats and yellow boots, jumping into mud and ignoring their parents calling from the windows, with an adorable picnic inside a car rather than outside because the trip had been interrupted, folding the backseats down to spread the blanket out, the trunk open to listen to the gentle pitter patter on the parking slots, to him it was really just the opposite.

No matter how cozy it was, sitting on the windowsill his mom had decorated specifically for him, in that apartment he had bought for and with his family around a year ago, with his parents, with rooms for his sister and him, the crafted bench with a bunch of pillows for him to sit comfortably while mercilessly hitting the keyboards in a surge of inspiration or while calmly waiting for words to come to his mind with his leather-bound memorandum book, in his mind, it really didn’t rival with the beauty of his little garden, the white noise of the weather a meager replacement for the gentle rush of the waves, even with a storm raging outside, he missed the sound of the ocean, the screeching of seagulls, missed the infinite mass of water just a bunch of feet away from his kitchen or bedroom window, he missed the rattling of the windows from the hefty breeze or the squeaking of metal when his swing was sent into a gentle rocking, and briefly he wondered when it had changed so much, when he had gone from loving the few months he spent with his family for the main holidays to loathing the drabness of the city outside.

“Yanjun, dearie,” his mother called, pulling him out of his dazed state that still seemed to have been somewhat productive, based on how he had managed writing a whole page from the main character’s point of view currently, gaze skipping over her thoughts about how her relationship, steady and calm, a bright prospect for the future, marrying and getting children, adopting a cat or a dog, was so highly rivaled by phone calls with her first love, a man she hadn’t met since graduating high school, she had only ran into him by chance, chatting away with him, calling him on tiring days after work, and while they could hardly ever meet, not when they were in different countries, resembling him missing his small seaside cottage, the bond seemed to slowly outgrow the one she had previously held, yet he didn’t even consider that he loved his single home more than his family, it just was a different kind of love entirely, adding to that him being a lonely wolf rather than an altricial animal.

With a low hum he saved his current progress before he closed the laptop for the time being, placed it on the bench he abandoned in favor of looking for his mom, considering how it was close to dinner time and both his father and sister were still at work, he could only assume it was about preparations and helping out in the kitchen, only to find himself surprise when seeing her not only set down the groceries bought on her way home, bags neatly filled and entirely unscathed from the falling water now set on the counters, but also a small parcel he handed him.

“Odd…” He mumbled more to himself than to her when taking it, turning it in his hands, but it didn’t carry the usual markings from his publishing firm nor the magazine he wrote for here in Taiwan, rather it was from an online shop, previously received and now re-used, with only his name jabbed down onto the cardboard he was busy ripping open, giving the quizzical look of his mother a smile in return.

Yet nothing could have prepared him for the things he was to encounter, a card immediately dropping down to the ground, overlooked as he had rather hold onto the neatly wrapped present, feeling firm like a hardcover beneath his fingertips and covered in drawings of small snowflakes that seemed awfully mocking when compared to the weather outside, the ribbon neatly wrapped around and even though the bow was squished a bit, he could clearly see how much dedication had gone into making it a pleasant and intricate design, with different sizes of ribbons tied into the knots to make it look like a flower rather than a boring and hasty one, clearly, whoever had put his hands on this thing had invested quite the time to make it look fair.

“Oh? Does our Yanjunnie have an admirer finally? Yet you didn’t tell us?” His mom teased in that usual tone a mother would use, somewhere in between heartfelt interest and curiosity about her son’s relationship status and feelings and the cunning schemes of finally getting to plan the wedding her daughter had always denied.

With a light frown the writer shook his head, turning it around to get a hint on who it had came from but eventually he’d need to rely on the card, pushing on the ribbons so prettily tied while he bent to pick up the card, walking over to the table so by the time he had set it down, he had created an opening on one side, pulling at the thing it carried inside to pull out.

There was no surprise in seeing a hardcover but where he had expected it to come from a book, he instead found a leather volume with a branding on the cover, two pairs of dog feet that varied only so slightly in size, not even needing to guess anymore to know who it had came from, it should have calmed him but did right the opposite, made him impatient as he tore the envelope open to find a simple card, one that offered no proper revelation as to why he had received the present and rather left him with more riddles, short statements, of the sunsets having lost color and the winds having turned icy, that Wubaiwan missed him for she went up to his garden every day, that they were waiting for his return and for him to feel the waiting time coming shorter, they had prepared this.

They - as if the dogs were actually able to print pictures and stick them onto the pages of the DIY photobook, the clasp in the middle allowing more papers to be added if only he desired, except he felt no desire to, not when right on the first page he was greeted by a picture of Wubaiwan and Fuli each, the white dog looking up into the camera whereas the bitch was hopping through the shallow waves, unknowingly it made him smile, something he realized only when feeling the knowing gaze of his mother on his frame and like a teenager caught watching porn, he immediately slapped the photobook shut before the pictures could be seen, giving his parent a look as if to tell her he had done nothing wrong, a gaze he used as farewell for he retreated to his room to set the photobook on his table and find his phone instead.

Briefly he wondered whether the reason he missed his home so much wasn’t for the sake of his home itself, whether it was because the last time he had seen such a storm he had been neatly wrapped up on his couch, his feet meeting Zhengting’s and yet they didn’t, not when they both had curled into blankets with a dog each on their lap, their legs turned towards one another but their waists twisted, looking over the backrest of his couch to watch the rain outside, one hand holding steaming cups of tea or coffee set on the windowsills at times, the other used to caress their respective dogs, whether it was because he missed how within a few days after harsh words that beauty of a man had changed his habits, waving him goodbye from the beach as if he had waited for the writer to emerge from his house and like clock wheels turning, one headed back home whereas the other had only just left his, and other days he would find the sun having just set behind the horizon, the last of the daylight fading, and a black dog’s moist snout rubbing against his cheek to draw his attention.

Without his notice, those days he spent seeing a frame leaving the beach or approaching his self had become more and more productive, he had found himself writing pages and pages, working throughout the nights until he passed out in bed, laptop still running and set beside his legs, miraculously having survived weeks of being mistreated in such ways, on the brink of falling off the sheets and meeting his despair of needing to get his hard drive repaired in whatever shape fit, he had received more praise within a few weeks than a half year’s time worth for his quick and efficient work, he had worked faster and better than ever before, and yet he hadn’t dared giving the credit to two dogs with dumb names and their even dumber owner.

Except maybe he should have done just that, except maybe he pushed that thought back as fast as it had came because this wasn’t right and this wasn’t needed, except maybe he wanted to disregard such possibility in the first place in which his home had only become more cozy because of those visitors he had originally loathed, except maybe he was suddenly distracted when hearing a familiar and yet different voice echo from his speakers in the most adorable of ways, “Yanjun? Is this because of the present or did you just miss me?”

  


  


It was foggy as the car headed towards the street nearing the beach it would never reach, not when it was a dead end for all that couldn’t walk with his and his neighbor’s distant house marking the end lines of the paved road, and the closer he got to such place, the more he felt at peace, that very unique sense of coming home that either meant tranquility at heart or breaking into tears for finally feeling safe and sound again, for reaching one’s own very unique place, but surely he wasn’t the kind to cry, he didn’t like to, found it hardly worth of any use, rather he just wanted to relish in the moment of grabbing his bags from the trunk and waving his best friend goodbye as if Zhangjing hadn’t just picked him up from the airport for this two hour drive to his home but, honestly, he was tired, exhausted, and he had already paid for breakfast and a break snack and coffee.

Not to mention his best friend was a best friend for good reason, not minding his moody ways, his exhaustion, Zhangjing just shouted whatever as farewell and then drove off already again, making the writer feel relieved about not owning a garden goblin or he was sure it would have been driven over quite intentionally just because that little foodie liked to be mischievous and a bother at times.

But it was all forgotten and ignored once he stepped into his home, letting out a low sigh of relief even when he was greeted by the smell of dust rather than fresh flowers and food as he had grown used to after the winter in his home country, spent with his family, he was willing to ignore it was he went to his bedroom and put down his stuff, he was welcoming the hours of the somberly weathered days to be invested in cleaning up, to pull the dust sheets off his furniture to be hung up outside and aired out, was ignorant to the dull ache of his spine and bones after hours spent vacuuming and mopping the floor or brushing off furniture, was relaxing with the salty breeze coming from the open windows he had to clean after weeks of the changing outside conditions and even though it seemed to take eternally for him to feel comfortable with everything looking prim and proper again, he didn’t regret a single moment of it, he only wanted to take a shower and put on comfortable clothes, hair still wet beneath his hood, wanted to grab a cup of coffee and put on some slippers and then head outside, to watch the grey and colorless sunset peeking through misty clouds, wanted to hear the white noise that were the ocean waves and inhale the scent that was so unique for the seaside deep into his lungs.

Even though it wasn’t perfect, even though it was dull and lacking life with the fog still lingering around and the mass of water seeming upset, he found it was just perfect, it was the kind of weather that had him feel restless in Taipei and perfectly at peace in China, sitting on his usual boulder, ignoring the drizzle that diluted his coffee but was too light to soak through his clothes, it made him feel as if he were in just the right place, the perfect site to be on, to enjoy Mother Nature’s beauty, the mightiness of the sea, the lingering bitterness of the coffee and-

“You’re back,” someone said to him, voice still gentle but laced with hidden excitement, higher in pitch than was needed to contain the owner’s joy, but perfectly able to send a comfortable shudder down his spine as he turned his head to be faced with a quite intrusive pet owner and two dogs sitting by his side, their plump butts settled on the bleak lawn and tiny pink tongues hanging out, fascinating in their own cuteness.

Silently he hummed in return, lifting himself off the boulder to get back onto his ground, no words or invitation needed for Zhengting and the dogs to follow behind him and inside, into the house that had cozily warmed up while he had been outside, the dogs settling on a towel that might as well be theirs alone by now, set out on the couch for them to not dirty anything, all while their owner followed to the only semi-secluded kitchen area, the counter marking the border from one room to another and currently his guest was sitting on the other side on one of the stools while he was moving around, putting his coffee away to prepare some tea, looking through notes and menus of delivery services for dinner because he hadn’t bought groceries yet, he didn’t even bother to ask about ordering for two when it seemed to perfectly natural for the other to join him.

“I read your new book,” the beauty finally started, once a mug of tea had been set in front of elegant fingers, painted in beautiful roses and green leaves, he remembered it being a present from his sister about moving in before but now it seemed to belong to the regular visitor, always holding the same kind of tea, always held by pale digits wrapped around the pottery as if to draw all warmth from it. “Xinchun sent it to me because he said I can’t not possibly know about your new work when we know each other and all that.”

“You don’t like reading,” Yanjun stated, simple as it was, while getting himself a glass of water before he heaved himself up onto the counter, listening with his ears while his eyes skimmed the menu of a local cuisine restaurant, memorizing the dishes he wanted, the dishes Zhengting loved, and then he called out those he thought the pretty male would like until it was all coming together in his mind and the time it took to do all that was leniently given a break from their slow and trickling conversation, the silence that wasn’t silent filled with ease and a lightness he only knew from his family, it made him feel warm from the inside even when he felt tender gazes directed at his frame, as if they were looking for all the changes, exploring how he had become fitter because he had needed to exercise to fight off the amount of food his mother had fed him, how his skin had paled a bit with the lack of sun and warmth around, how his hair had grown longer because he hadn’t found a hairdresser in the city ever since the one from his childhood had closed down, and if all those details were soaked up like a sponge in water, at least they weren’t pointed out or hinted at while he was still on the phone with the shop owner to forward their wants for dinner.

“The story is based on your life, right?” The question was uttered right after he had ended the call and for a moment he could only stare at the small screen that was still lit in his hands, illuminating the surface of the menu that had partly lost its shine from being held ever so often, and he had to consider these words, had to think about the novel that was about a woman falling in love always at the right place, the story he had written while sitting in his family home at the window while listening to the rain and while watching the sunlit blue sky, a story he had started a few days before going home and ended within only a few weeks because the flow had been right, published immediately because who would look a gift horse into the mouth? “Because you travel between here and Taipei a lot, don’t you?”

And if relief was washing over him because he hadn’t been misunderstood as some sort of twisted confession, because Zhengting wasn’t as self-centered to think it was about him, because it was such a natural interpretation and what not, he didn’t show it, but if there was a pang of guilt about this very relief, merely because he had looked into doe eyes and saw a sliver of hope, then it did very well in forbidding him from parting his lips, it blocked the words about how he had missed this house and being near the sea, how the ocean was like a lover so fit to be described in words and to fill pages, how he had felt hollow, only to give space to an entirely different kind of reply. “You called me a lot on tiring days…”

Once he had called for the first time, once the woman of his story had called for the first time, once it had gotten under way and started rolling, and slowly he had found his yearning for his small house and his blooming garden, the desire to smell the salty air and hear the waves crushing, the comfort of his mattress and warmth of his blankets, replaced by wanting something else, it had only seemed to fuel his words further and he found himself remembering how his editor had said that novel might just earn some book awards because never had his pages been filled with more emotions, with deeper longing, more heartbreaking desire, and right at this moment he found himself forgetting about awards or nominations or articles and reviews because somehow he knew that right this moment he had won something else, something that was more important, something that could never be replaced by materialist desires.

But maybe he had also lost something right this moment and he didn’t even mind, not when it felt like a tiny sunrise within his chest, illuminating the skies and brightening the world, bringing color to day and life to flowers, and all that birthed by a shy smile on a beautiful face and fingers brushing against his on the counter top.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, look at me and not giving a definite ending for once, I love it  
> Also, new layout style but it already irks me out so don't expect this to happen again, it was nice while it lasted
> 
> anyways - [twitter](https://twitter.com/zhengjunist) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/dadting)


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